


Stars, hide your fires

by wearethewitches



Category: Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: ??? did i write whump, BAMF Christopher Pike, Blood and Violence, Developing Relationship, Episode: s02e05 Amok Time, F/M, Fake Marriage, Fights, Getting Together, Kissing, Married Couple, Michael-centric, Past Rape/Non-con, Pon Farr, Unhealthy Relationships, Vulcan Bond, Vulcan Culture, Whump, amok time-ish stuff, i barely know the meaning of the word
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-19
Updated: 2021-01-19
Packaged: 2021-03-17 09:46:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28847016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wearethewitches/pseuds/wearethewitches
Summary: When Michael Burnham's Vulcan husband comes aboard theDiscovery, it is discovered that things are not what they seem - and it may be up to Christopher Pike to set it right.
Relationships: Michael Burnham/Christopher Pike, Michael Burnham/Original Male Character(s)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 63





	Stars, hide your fires

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Alethia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alethia/gifts).



> SO, i have been writing this for two days, bracketing my 21st birthday on jan 18th!!! woo hoo me! the big 21 (my parents wanted to buy me a car and i said no because driving SCARES ME.)
> 
> and anyway, this sort of just came about because i was thinking of this sort of idea for a different fic, but it was more of a less-graphic thing and more insulted ex, than anything. but yeah! warnings for talk of past and imminent sexual abuse ahead, please read the tags guys.
> 
> and because they're brill and have been fulfilling my michael x chris cravings for the past year, this is for alethia. you rock. i'll tag you later if you read this because yknow, who wants to be tagged in M stuff against their will, despite the majority of your stuff being porn. :P
> 
> oh and jc, i wrote in a THIRD PERSON!!!! GROWTH!!! and if i didn't somewhere, pls tell me so i can edit it. pls.

‘How long has it been since you talked to other Vulcans outside of your family?’

Michael considered the question, weighing every possible answer as she traversed the halls of _Discovery_. ‘I’ve talked to my father’s aides and other Vulcan spaceport employees.’

Captain Pike chuckled, gently elbowing her, ‘You know what I mean. When was the last time you talked to a peer?’

‘Several years,’ Michael shared with him. ‘There was a mission on the _Shenzhou,_ much like this one, where we assisted a dozen VSA students who had been stranded during a routine observation of a series of star formations inside a nebula.’ Recalling their stilted behaviour around her, she concealed her own laughter. ‘It was an… _interesting_ experience.’

‘Interesting how?’

Approaching the transporter bay, Michael said graciously, ‘Maybe I’ll tell you one day.’

One of the bay officers spoke to the captain on their arrival. ‘Ready to transport, sir. The Vulcan group is waiting.’

‘Energise,’ he ordered, smiling at her. ‘I’ll hold you to that, Commander. You can tell me how fun that mission was.’

Hands curling behind her back, Michael barely managed to contain her returning smile as the transporters activated. Captain Pike winked covertly in her direction, before pulling on a professional mask to greet the Vulcan contingent.

When they finally appeared, Michael at first was overtaken by a ripple of familiarity, the dark swaths of fabric making up their classical robes providing a very appreciated sense of home. It had been several months since she had seen any Vulcans or their traditional clothing fashions and to see them satisfied an ache in her chest. However, as she processed the identities of the members of the Vulcan Science Academy who had come aboard the _Discovery_ that day, it was to Michael’s great horror that she recognised one of them and he, in turn, recognised her.

‘Captain Pike,’ greeted the lead scientist, T’Kuna, seemingly unaware of the loaded gazes being exchanged between Michael and her aide.

‘Doctor T’Kuna. Welcome aboard the U.S.S. _Discovery._ I understand that you require our assistance?’

‘Indeed,’ said T’Kuna, stepping off the transporter pad. Michael tore her eyes away from the aide— _as if that is all he is,_ she thought to herself—and breathed in deeply, holding her composure steady as T’Kuna turned her attentions onto Michael herself. She offered a short bow. _‘T’sai Michael Burnham.’_

Michael inclined her head shortly. _‘Ek-Talsu T’Kuna._ Hereafter, you and your cohort may refer to me as Commander Burnham.’

‘Commander.’ T’Kuna accepted, before gesturing behind her without looking to her colleague. ‘I am accompanied by your honoured husband, _S’Haile Fialkic.’_

Fialkic didn’t waste any time, moving to stand at T’Kuna’s side and greeting Michael with an insultingly short nod. To Michael, he had not changed past the colouring of his Vulcan-standard hair, stray strands of white indicating the passing of time highlighted under the bright ship lighting. Perhaps his thin eyebrows had begun to fray, but that was a negligible difference.

He greeted her without intonation. ‘Honoured wife.’

‘Fialkic,’ she retuned stiffly. ‘I was unaware you would be boarding.’ A part of Michael had begun to boil at the sight of him, anger and rage and fear all bubbling in one giant melting pot inside her chest. From the awkward silence that ensued, part of it must have been visible, a different Vulcan taking a passing interest in the transporter station—which was conveniently six feet to Michael’s left.

Audibly tentative, Captain Pike broached, ‘Husband?’

‘Of nigh on fourteen years,’ said Fialkic, which sounded wrong to Michael’s ears until she took into account _Discovery’s_ jump into the future after their wayward trip to the Mirrorverse. Fialkic said no more on the matter, relieving Michael if only for the sake of not having to explain.

T’Kuna took the chance to address Captain Pike. ‘Our vessel’s computers have been compromised by a malfunction in our primary engines. Due to the high importance of our scientific pursuit, we petitioned the Vulcan High Council for temporary use of the nearest Starfleet vessel suited to our purposes.’

Pike’s brow furrowed. ‘We are currently on our own highly classified mission. I was transferred from the U.S.S. _Enterprise_ to oversee it. My superiors are willing to allow you onboard for the duration of your endeavour, but we cannot guarantee your safety.’ His warning was full of such obvious concern that Michael almost felt pity for him. These were Vulcans.

Like Michael expected, T’Kuna did little more than nod. ‘We understand. Likewise, the nature of our experiment has deep implications in the field of astronavigation, should we be proven correct.’

‘Right.’ Pike pursed his lips, before transforming the expression into a diplomat’s smile. ‘Well, if this is all of your crew who will be joining us, then it would be my pleasure to escort you to the laboratory that’s been cleared for your use. If any of your contingent would like a rudimentary tour of the ship, I’d be happy to come myself or let your assigned yeoman do the job.’

‘Your willingness is noted. However, I believe it would be more prudent to allow you to attend to your duties as captain.’ T’Kuna said, in what Michael recognised as a more polite tone, ‘We are not diplomats, Captain Pike. Your services as a mediator are not required, in this instant.’

‘Understood, doctor—that is the correct title, is it not?’ Pike queried, glancing at Michael. ‘I heard some Vulcan words I’m not familiar with, just then.’

‘Doctor is correct enough, for your Terran understanding,’ she answered. ‘Commander Burnham belongs to an ancient clan in Vulcan society. I greeted her as tradition and courtesy dictates, as she did in turn. You are not Vulcan. These things do not apply to you.’

‘Of course.’ Pike nodded, then gestured to the door. ‘If you would follow me.’

Michael waited, as custom, until the very last of the Vulcan party were ahead of her to follow, not expecting the last aide—an intern of sorts, a teenager from the Learning Centre, if Michael was judging correctly—to attempt to wait on her, instead. There was a moment where her two natures combined, the Starfleet officer in her needing to follow protocol to continue only after they had moved, while the Vulcan-raised part of her that belonged to the House of Surak knew that until they were given permission, they would not take another step forwards. As such, an amalgam answer from both her selves was quick to present itself.

 _‘Step forth,’_ Michael ordered them in quiet Vulcan, looking away from them, forwards. She did not look at them as they stepped into line behind their colleagues, head bowed in respect of the authority she had just granted them for the duration of their journey. T’Kuna was right to remind Pike that they were not diplomats. Diplomats, at least, would have known that her duty to Starfleet overrode what respect they were required to show her as Sarek’s daughter. With her words, the student had become her own personal assistant and would remain in that position until she ordered them from her side—as was her right.

It was like slipping into an old dress. The shape was familiar, yet parts of her didn’t fit anymore and if she moved an inch too far to the left, everybody would see. Not to mention, none aboard _Discovery_ bar a few exceptions would recognise why she had such authority. Tilly would have many questions tonight, that was for sure.

Ahead, Fialkic looked like any other Vulcan—the curse of belonging to a homogenised race—but Michael would know him anywhere. A burr in the back of her mind already itched, beginning to burn in a way it hadn’t in over six years. She ached to crack her neck and rid herself of that feeling, but she knew it was a fruitless attempt. Without help from a Vulcan mind-healer or Fialkic himself, the sensation would remain.

 _Already, you are claiming me back,_ Michael thought and it was a thought that turned her insides to ice. She did not want to be claimed. Again, she thought of the many years since their marriage and then, she counted the _Discovery’s_ time travel against her.

_No._

Michael walked three paces behind the Vulcan contingent with her eyes closed. Up ahead, she could hear Captain Pike talking to _Ek-Talsu T’Kuna_ about what to expect from the infamous ‘Black Alert’ and around her, the _Discovery_ hummed like a comforting song. But in her head, that barb dug deeper and she could feel Fialkic then, in all his arrogance and surety. She could _hear_ him.

 ** _Pon Farr has begun, wife of mine_** _,_ he said to her, his voice a whisper in the wind between their minds. **_Prepare yourself._**

Michael didn’t want to, though it was her duty. She opened her eyes and refused to acknowledge what was to come, thinking instead of the chemical composition of stars and radiant nebulae as they walked _Discovery_.

Fialkic was displeased.

 ** _Prepare yourself_** _,_ he ordered once more, before reducing his voice to nothing. She could still feel him on the fringes of her mind, like as if an enemy stood at her back and she only knew from the feel of their breath on her collar—but still, the lessening was potent. Michael could breathe easier.

Distance made the feeling sweeter. By the time they got to the laboratory, she could practically taste Fialkic’s grudge against her continued refusal of him like a sourness on the back of her tongue. When she abandoned him there, walking with Captain Pike back to the bridge, she felt less restricted every footstep apart.

‘So,’ Pike murmured when they reached the privacy of the turbo-lift. ‘You’re…married. That’s not on your file.’

‘It isn’t filed on paper,’ said Michael, reluctant. ‘It’s a matter of tradition on Vulcan. It is…required. I’m welcome to have other partners, as is he, but for the purpose of the word—yes. We’re married.’

‘Marriage is about love, where I’m from.’ His tone was careful, not meant to impose. Pike asked her, ‘Is it what you wanted?’

‘Frankly, no.’ Michael said, the unexpected edge to her tone surprising her. Pike’s expression twisted into one of concern for the second time that day.

‘Commander—Michael,’ he corrected himself, leaning in. ‘Is there anything I can do?’

Michael looked at her captain. His bright blue eyes were full of empathy, of a selfless worry on her behalf. He looked at her and searched for something that Michael knew did in fact apply here, but it was something he couldn’t do anything about. Though if he knew that, he would fight it and once again, Michael’s reputation within Starfleet would take a beating—this time, with potentially career-ending consequences. Most likely, the Vulcan High Council would order her to step down, so as to not bring any more ill reputation on their governance. Mutiny was one thing, but to open the barrel of worms that was the most taboo thing in Vulcan society was most definitely another.

Uneasy at her own thoughts, Michael sought to head Captain Pike off. There was nothing he could do that would not sacrifice her livelihood in the process.

‘No,’ she said gently, raising a hand to his chest. He lifted his own, resting it on top of her own and to Michael, it was an intimate motion that made her feel guilty for misleading him. ‘I was raised in the Vulcan ways. Many, if not most partnerships on Vulcan, are the same as mine and Fialkic’s. The things we value in partners are different and our betrothals are arranged as children. Sometimes, we outgrow them—or vice versa, we grow into them.’

‘You aren’t happy with him, though,’ said Pike, cutting into her speech with a sharp knife.

Michael hesitated. ‘No, but I find happiness elsewhere.’ She removed her hand from beneath his, forcing herself to take a step backwards, saying to him in a voice that brooked no argument, ‘Do not interfere, Captain. This is my burden to bear.’

He winced, then turned away. ‘Yes, Commander. My apologies.’

That guilt bloomed in her chest, but Michael didn’t stop to correct his assumption that he overstepped. If anything, she admired him more for it. To find such a moral man in the galaxy was no small matter and she felt lucky to have him as her captain. She wanted to tell him that Fialkic was never welcome in the House of Surak and that he knew never to use his position as her _adun_ where her family could see, lest they undermine him—and they would. They had before.

It reminded her of how T’Kuna announced him. _S’Haile Fialkic._ How dare he? If Michael had been in her right mind, she would have corrected the issue there and then. While he had the right to call himself as such, as a Lord of her House, without direct permission from a member of that clan to claim such a title, he cut a fine line in propriety. And without Michael directly opposing it when she first heard, she had implicitly allowed it to continue amongst his present company.

Before they arrived at the bridge, Michael had the sense to ask Pike, ‘Captain, please do not mention my relationship with Fialkic to any of the crew on _Discovery._ I don’t want them to know.’

Pike glanced at her and for once, it seemed cold. Still, he nodded primly. ‘I wouldn’t betray your confidences, Commander—though I can’t say the same for the transport officers,’ he reminded her. Michael winced. The whole ship would know by the end of the day. Pike’s eyes crinkled, turning his expression soft. ‘Don’t worry, Michael. If there’s anything I’ve learnt about your crew so far, it’s that they care about you.’

Michael risked everything to tell him, ‘That’s what I’m worried about.’

* * *

Christopher Pike was a very emotional man. He wasn’t afraid to say that. Growing up with a pastor for a father and both a doctor and a lawyer for mothers, he knew a lot of insightful things from a young age and was encouraged to think critically about everything he was taught. As such, Michael Burnham’s behaviour around her so-called ‘husband’ was increasingly suspect.

For one, her reaction to his arrival. Propriety was maintained, but if Chris was forced to describe their relationship using human terminology, he would have called it ‘severely estranged’. He could hardly believe they’d been married fourteen years. Did Vulcans not hold to the concept of divorce?

And Michael’s answers in the turbo-lift were far from satisfactory. She admitted that she wasn’t happy and that marriage on Vulcan was _required._ Later, when Chris had a chance to look at her file again, he saw her age. Michael was eighteen when she got married. Young for the average human culture, though he knows various religions on Earth encouraged early marriage and family planning. But considering Michael’s admittances, Chris wasn’t inclined to think happy thoughts on the matter. It’s times like these that he wished Spock hadn’t taken leave. He’d be able to explain why his sister of all people was in an unhappy marriage.

Chris looked up when his ready room door chimed, admitting Ensign Tilly. She was holding a PADD and frowning, not a good mix when it came to his happy-go-lucky Command Track student.

‘Sir! Can I talk to you about the Vulcan contingent?’

‘So long as it’s not to do with Commander Burnham,’ he said, feeling abashed when Tilly frowned at him and replied.

‘What would it have to do with Commander Burnham? No, I’m talking about their ship. We got their copy of the report about the damage interfering with their computers and, well…see for yourself.’ Tilly handed him the PADD and Chris leant back on his sofa to read it, scrolling through the data-set she’d made available to him.

‘What am I seeing, ensign?’ He asked her, though he recognised it as a diagnostic indicating a coding error that interfered with systems.

‘The coding error that broke their engines and caused the damage to their onboard computers was put in manually,’ said Tilly, pointing out a timestamp and a presumably Vulcan piece of signage attached. ‘That’s their marker for manual input. The breakdown was on purpose. I thought it was important enough to tell you, before I looked into it further.’

‘Well done,’ he praised in a murmur, handing back the PADD. ‘Inform Doctor T’Kuna privately. She may have a saboteur on her team, here or whoever remained on her ship until the tow came.’

‘Aye, Captain.’ Tilly said, tucking the PADD under her arm. ‘So, what did you mean by Michael having something to do with the Vulcans? Got something to share?’

‘If I did,’ said Chris cautiously, ‘then I wouldn’t be obliged to tell. In fact, if you _do_ ask Michael about it, don’t mention me. She’ll kill me for telling you there’s something to investigate,’ he joked, though part of him was serious.

But Tilly’s eyes widened. She’d picked up on the unsaid clue. ‘Is there something to investigate?’ Chris only gave her a look that was part chastisement and part warning, making her nod hurriedly, zipping her lips. ‘Right, got it. I’ll go tell T’Kuna she’s got a spy on board.’

‘You do that,’ he encouraged, nodding when she straightened up, seeking permission to exit. After the door closed, he groaned to himself, muttering, ‘How long did you keep that a secret, Christopher? Three hours?’

After wrapping up his pity-party, he closed down his computer, returning to the bridge to pick up where he left off before he went to escort the scientists to their lab. Saru gave him back the Chair and they continued cruising towards Vulcan at warp two, waiting for any buzz on the red bursts.

Twenty minutes before Alpha shift ended, things suddenly went topsy-turvy. Bryce on Comms frowned before he called out, stating, ‘Captain, the yeoman assigned to the Vulcan lab has just been admitted to sickbay.’

‘What? Did something happen?’ Chris asked, flabbergasted. What kind of experiments were they doing that hurt his crewmembers?

Bryce’s furrowed his brow, expanding the notification. ‘Doctor Pollard is reporting a broken wrist and is asking for security officers to be sent down to arrest the scientist responsible. Brute force was applied after the yeoman touched their equipment.’ Another notification popped up. ‘A lieutenant just reported that the Vulcans are refusing entry to the lab, sir.’

‘Get those security officers posted,’ Chris snapped, only for Commander Burnham to speak up.

‘Bryce, can you ask which Vulcan perpetrated the act?’

Bryce shook his head, still scanning his messages. ‘Laurg doesn’t know who it was, but suspected they were male, leaning towards elderly.’

To Chris’ memory, only two Vulcans in the contingent of six met that description and one was T’Kuna herself. He turned to Michael and asked, ‘Is this behaviour consistent with Fialkic’s usual temperament?’

He watched her freeze in place, her hand resting on the edge of the science station. More eyes turned on her and Chris felt like she’d answered him anyway. He clenched his fist and looked back at Bryce. ‘Tell Doctor T’Kuna that she is expected to hand over Mister Fialkic to our security officers for transfer to the brig.’

‘The infirmary.’

He paused. Looked to Michael. ‘Infirmary?’ Chris asked carefully, already re-evaluating the situation. ‘Does he have a pre-existing condition?’

‘All Vulcans do,’ Michael revealed, stepping away from her station and drawing herself inwards. It was a clear process, how all her emotions folded away beneath her skin, but Chris could still see them. She was scared and she was steadfast—resigned to whatever awaited her. ‘Captain, I request emergency shore leave to Vulcan with Fialkic.’

‘What happens if I let you go?’

She concealed her flinch, but something still flashed across her face. Behind him, he heard Saru make a noise of concern.

‘Michael, how do you even know this- this _Fialkic?_ Why did he hurt Yeoman Laurg?’

‘They’re married, Saru,’ Chris revealed, still watching Michael. It hurt him second-hand to see her squirm in front of the other bridge crew and he stood to join her at her side, allowing her request. ‘You can have your short leave, Commander, but let me go with you.’

‘Vulcan won’t allow that, sir,’ she immediately replied. He raised an eyebrow.

‘You think I’m letting you leave my care with someone who has already hurt another of my crew? Pull the other one, Burnham.’

Her cheeks flushed and this time, she didn’t refuse him, positively fleeing the bridge. Chris stayed on her tail, knowing he’ll have to deal with Saru and company later on her behalf. That’s on him.

As he follows her, he looks back at Saru and calls out, ‘You have the Conn, Saru—take us to Vulcan, pronto. I want answers.’

‘I will endeavour to find some, captain!’ was the last thing he heard, before the bridge doors closed and he was forced to catch up with Michael, lest she leave him behind completely. Up ahead, the empty turbo-lift anticipated them.

 _Awkward conversation numero dos awaits us,_ Chris thought grimly, steeling himself for the inevitable. He saw the mixture of fury and embarrassment on Michael’s face and corrected himself.

_I’m about to get deep-fried. Good job, Chris!_

* * *

When Michael was seventeen, an administrator in the Vulcan Science Academy requested leave to court her via Sarek, who denied the request under grounds of both Michael not having passed her majority yet and because of her then-current career choice in the VSA itself, citing a future conflict of interest, should he become her superior or vice-versa. She had been made aware of the query, just like she had been made aware the separate thirty-two other instances it had happened, from various suitors.

Michael had been cynical then, yet still somewhat daintily pleased that she was wanted, despite the reasoning. She belonged to the House of Surak, the founder of the original Vulcan Principles of Logic and was, as such, a gateway to Vulcans not of the blood to the influence accorded her position in her clan.

However, what she did not expect the next year, four point nine cycles after her eighteenth birthday, was to be kidnapped and taken to become Fialkic’s bride during his _Pon Farr_ ceremony. No-one was there for her to name as champion for _Kal-i-Fee_ , even if Michael had known about it at the time, which she had not and later attempts to press charges were dismissed. When she brought the matter to the Vulcan High Council, they briefly entertained her suit until a mind healer declared that Fialkic had successfully wed her and created a marriage bond. That was when Michael knew she had lost.

Since the first time, Michael had had to participate in _Pon Farr_ once more. The Vulcan mating drive happened only once every seven years and no-one denied her wish to abandon him outside of that sacred duty, but neither did they allow her to completely ignore it. When Tilly told her of the sabotage on the VSA ship, Michael told her to report to the captain, but had known that it was most likely a ruse to protect Fialkic and abscond with her later, under the guise of the worried wife caring for her ill husband. It might have been more convincing if Michael had played any nicer.

Standing beside Captain Pike as the turbo-lift descended, Michael didn’t know how to feel. Sex wasn’t something she did very often and usually, only with people she trusted, due to Fialkic’s deception. She can still remember his hands, how they pushed against her ribs and shoulders. Michael had been required to have reconstructive surgery after that first encounter and she suspected it was only due to Sarek threatening Fialkic before the second that ensured her injuries were minimal. Even in the throes of _Plak Tow,_ the deadly fever of _Pon Farr,_ a Vulcan had preservation instincts. An angry father would definitely cause them to take precautions.

In any case, sex was difficult for her to discuss and her renewed fear of betrayal from her partners—and oh, had the situation with Ash made her ever more afraid—made trusting someone new difficult. Knowing he was Spock’s captain did something to allay her, but it wasn’t enough, not on its own.

The silence must have made him nervous, because Pike said, ‘You have every right to shun me or get angry at me for revealing that to your friends, you know. I’d deserve it.’

Her feelings bubbled up out of the smelting pot they’d been stewing it, as if the heat had been turned on high. It all burst out of her in one.

‘I wouldn’t have minded if I had any choice in it! If I had been given autonomy that so far in my marriage, has been denied to me, then perhaps I wouldn’t be so _angry_. Nothing about my relationship with Fialkic is consensual. I have no rights to divorce him or abandon him. Our names are tied together unto death—and if he _does_ die because I’m not there, then that is on me, _Captain.’_

‘Chris.’

Michael might have continued, if not for that gentle whisper. ‘Chris?’ she questioned angrily, still riled.

‘Call me Chris,’ he offered, still so damn _chivalrous_ and _knightly_. His eyes met hers. ‘Emergency shore leave, remember? I’m taking mine with you. You don’t need to call me captain.’

‘But you’re my captain,’ Michael said, lost.

‘Yes, but I also have a name,’ he smiled tentatively and she couldn’t be mad at him. He correctly came to the conclusion that Fialkic was responsible for injuring another crewmember, not unusual for a Vulcan under the effects of _Plak Tow_. He reached out for her hand and she let him take it, watching him cradle it comfortingly.

‘Fialkic can’t control himself right now,’ she told him quietly as the turbo-lift came to a stop. The doors opened. ‘We need to get to Vulcan. What is afflicting him is taboo to discuss among fellows, let alone outsiders. I only know because the first time it happened, he collected me in advance.’

She knew he’d figure it out eventually, that the breadcrumbs she left now would be used later to form the full picture. Perhaps Michael had a martyr complex, or maybe she wanted the pity that the Vulcan High Council denied her by declaring her marriage correct—but something she realised only now was that she _did_ trust Captain Pike. Chris.

Impulsively, Michael leant forwards, pressing her lips to his for the briefest of moments. It seemed to last forever, before she stepped away, exiting the turbo-lift and moving towards sickbay. She couldn’t hear him following behind her.

Fialkic hadn’t been remanded to Doctor Pollard’s capable hands as of yet, but the yeoman whose wrist was broken was already under the osteo-regenerator, getting her delicate carpal bones repaired. When Michael appeared, Doctor Pollard frowned from by the yeoman’s bedside and called out.

‘Commander Burnham, is there something wrong?’

‘The Vulcan, Fialkic,’ Michael began, knowing that Doctor Pollard would be able to figure out something was going on with one scan, ‘He’s suffering a Vulcan-specific malady. We’re travelling to Vulcan to deliver him to the local healers, but until then, Captain Pike has ordered him to be taken to sickbay.’

Yeoman Laurg affected a scared expression. ‘He’s coming _here?_ Do I have to be here when he does? I don’t really want to be in the same room as him, no offence. He was scary,’ they confided.

‘I’ll get him taken to Sickbay Three,’ Doctor Pollard said, already typing away on her PADD. ‘It’s closer to that laboratory, anyway. You won’t have to see him.’

The yeoman sighed in relief. ‘Great.’

Feeling guilt on Laurg’s behalf, Michael nodded, then stepped back, only to run into Pike— _Chris_ —who looked at her with red cheeks as she fumbled an apology.

‘Captain—Chris—I’m sorry. I didn’t see you there.’

‘…no harm done,’ he said quietly, before asking Pollard. ‘Where did you say he’s going?’

‘Sickbay Three. I’ll leave the yeoman here to the nurses and follow you.’ She said, before indicating a nurse to attend them. Michael moved out of Chris’ way, avoiding looking at him, even as Doctor Pollard mentioned, ‘You’re looking a bit pink there. Did you run here?’

‘Nothing that strenuous,’ he replied, before they began to move in tandem, returning to the turbo-lift. Michael feared another awkward silence, but luckily, Pollard was more interested in Fialkic.

‘What’s the nature of his condition?’

‘It’s a neurochemical imbalance,’ Michael said, listing a few of the imbalances she knew herself. By Pollard’s rising eyebrows, Michael guessed she’d already guessed part of his malady.

‘Haven’t seen anyone like that since my last trip to Risa,’ she said, almost glibly. ‘What do the Vulcan healers do? Have they got a special concoction to stop it?’

‘No—the Blood Fever has already started, if Yeoman Laurg’s wrist has anything to say about it,’ said Michael, already gearing herself up to deal with said fever. ‘The healers can only prevent it for a certain amount of time. Extreme situations can push it back by several months, but that is incredibly rare.’

‘Hm, well,’ Pollard said and part of Michael felt something sink in her stomach at the casualness of her tone, dropping like a stone when she finished speaking. ‘Mating drives follow rules. As long as he’s safe, sane and consensual with his partner, then I see no problem letting the Vulcans take care of him.’

‘Mating drives?’ Chris repeated in an odd tone. Michael swallowed her prudish reaction—and ignored Pollard’s _safe, sane and consensual_ comment—replying to him.

‘Yes. Vulcans view it as shameful, however. It is the most taboo thing in our entire culture. I’m only telling you this, Doctor, because you’ll ask questions.’

Pollard clammed up. ‘Understood. Right, here we are,’ she said as the turbo-lift opened up. Michael went to follow her out, only to realise Chris hadn’t moved. He was looking at her with something like dawning dread.

‘Michael,’ he said, barely speaking as he asked her, ‘How did you become his wife?’

Michael didn’t reply.

* * *

Chris felt like he was walking through a dream—or maybe a nightmare. In what universe was it okay for ‘mating drives’ to impact another beings personal and physical sovereignty? For Christ’s sake, they live in the twenty-third century! Vulcan should have come up with a- a _cure_ or something for this thing they go through! If it’s as wide-spread as Michael implied—as in, _a whole species affliction_ —then they _definitely_ should have been looking for a way to offer their people a choice, rather than inflict what was probably a centuries old tradition.

Chris didn’t realise how angry he was until he finally saw Fialkic brought into sickbay. With a detached surveyance of the situation, Chris realised he was in no position to act like a captain at the moment and left without a word, only to discover the young aide de camp cum intern waiting outside.

‘You,’ he addressed him, ‘what’s your name?’

The young Vulcan turned to attention, the faint mimicking of his officers’ posture doing more to relax him than the observation that they’re mimicking does. Adrenaline pumping through his system, Chris listens as the teenager introduces themself.

‘I am T’Sil. You are the captain of this vessel, Christopher Pike.’

‘Yes, that’s right,’ said Chris, looking around for anywhere they could get some privacy. He needed to ask questions and get the answers for them _now,_ but he remembered what Michael said: it’s the most taboo subject in the entire culture of Vulcan. If he got more than a word out of the student, he’d consider the matter a success. Asking them directly, he said, ‘I require answers only a Vulcan can give—immediately. However, it concerns a sensitive subject. May I give you my queries in a more private setting, T’Sil?’

‘You may, Captain Pike. I suspect I know the topic you wish to broach, if said conversation includes mention of the _Pudor-tor T’Sai.’_

 _T’Sai—that’s what T’Kuna called Michael,_ Chris thought, before nodding. There was a nearby room, most likely meant for overflow patients during a crisis. Gathering T’Sil, Chris led them into the room and stepped away from the doorway, getting a hold of what little remained of his temper before asking straight-up.

‘What do you know of the marriage of Michael Burnham and Fialkic?’

‘More than most,’ said T’Sil, surprising him. T’Sil bowed low, hands twisting in a strange version of a prayer. ‘I am T’Sil of Shi’Kahr, but I am also T’Sil Zar of the Great Wastes. I am the daughter of the one known as Sybok, eldest son of Sarek. Michael Burnham is, in the Terran vernacular, my aunt. When the opportunity came to watch over he who had disgraced her, I was eager to serve.’

Chris’ world is turned upside down. _This is Michael’s **niece?** I didn’t even know Spock had a brother…_ ‘Disgraced?’

T’Sil nodded shortly, hands disappearing into the sleeves of her robes. ‘My aunt was taken from her home on the eve of Fialkic’s Time of Mating. If not for the marriage bond he placed between their minds, it would have been called rape by universal law.’

Sick to his stomach, Chris raised a hand to stop her. After a long moment, he asked her, ‘So why is that marriage bond so important? Vulcans are telepathic, I understand, but I wasn’t aware it was to that degree.’

‘The average Vulcan is a Class Three telepath,’ T’Sil said, ‘However, irregularities are not uncommon. Members of my line are known to be Class Seven telepaths and above. Spock, Sybok and T’Pau are among the strongest telepaths of their respective generations. My father has never met Michael, but his brief time in the care of the Lady Amanda fostered within him a sense of kinship, the like of which he has never felt since. As such, he sees my aunt as his sister and cares for her from afar.’

Talk of emotions from a Vulcan hit him strangely, but Chris was learning much that day, so didn’t interrupt as T’Sil went on.

‘Michael brought her case to the Vulcan High Council and they proceeded as they would in any other case of sexual assault among the Ancient Clans. Had it not been for the marriage bond, Sarek or any other champion of Michael’s belonging to the House of Surak would have had the right to kill Fialkic for his false claiming. Unfortunately, they were indeed wed.’

‘And no-one tried to stop it? Fialkic just- he just _took her._ Kidnapped her. And no-one thought it strange that a Vulcan walking around in the middle of a _rut,’_ Chris snarled the word, ‘just so happened to take her?’

‘There were co-conspirators,’ T’Sil confirmed, for the first time seeming more than just a placid cardboard prop. Her brow furrowed and her lips pursed. She revealed to him, ‘My father does not welcome those belonging to Fialkic’s House into our organisation.’

‘Good,’ Chris muttered, though he didn’t know what organisation she referred to. T’Sil breathed in deeply, before rearranging her face. Vulcan calm regained, she continued once more.

‘There is but one thing she may do, to stop the proceedings.’

‘How?’ Chris asked.

‘You must understand, Captain,’ said T’Sil, quiet. ‘To leave the urges of ones Time unsatisfied is to welcome death. They may only be fulfilled through exquisite passion or devastating conflict. They may already be married, but Michael may call for _Kal-i-Fee,_ an ancient rite. She may choose a champion to fight on her behalf.’

Chris’ heart pounded inside his chest at the idea of saving her. ‘And?’

T’Sil’s voice was filled with righteousness as she said, ‘And they would kill him in mortal combat. A fight to the death, Captain Pike. My only question of you is this: are you prepared?’

* * *

Above her, the computer announced, _‘BLACK ALERT.’_ The lights in sickbay barely flickered, a grey band running around the edge of the ceiling as a subtle way to indicate their jumps to a harried doctoral staff. Lashed to his bio-bed, Fialkic was in an easy mood, though a bead of sweat ran down the edge of his forehead. He looked at her with dark, unblinking eyes and in the back of her head, that burr ground harder, tighter.

**_We must retreat…_ **

Michael couldn’t find it in herself to move. Black Alert ended the next moment and she knew they were in Vulcan space. It would be a matter of moments before Pollard got them to head towards the shuttlebay. On the bio-bed, Fialkic made an uncharacteristic snarling noise, baring his teeth at her and stretching against the restraints. Doctor Pollard looked in her direction in alarm.

‘When did you say this mate of his was getting here, again?’

‘She is already here, dear doctor,’ said Fialkic, still attempting to remove the bands around his wrists and legs. Pollard’s expression rippled, but before she could reply, Michael heard Chris return.

‘Michael,’ he greeted her, low and urgent. Turning around to face him—seeing the determined look in his eyes—Michael tried to feel anything but despair. This was her fate. Nothing could change it.

‘Call for a _Kal-i-Fee.’_

‘I can’t- wait, how do you know what _Kal-i-Fee_ is?’ Michael interrupted herself, looking behind him to the VSA student at the doors. They raised their chin defiantly, but there was a strangely familiar tilt to their lips as they turned up into the faintest of smiles. Michael looked back to Chris. ‘What you’re asking is impossible. I’m already married. I can’t call for the _Kal-i-Fee,_ unless it’s the first time around.’

‘Every Vulcan is allowed to call _Koon-Ut Kal-i-Fee,_ when there has been _Koon-Ut Sol’ik.’_

The Vulcan words breezed through the Universal Translator unaffected, as Chris meant to say them the way he did. To Michael, who had known _Vuhlkansu_ since she was ten years old, his speech had the effect she’s sure he hoped it did—hope spilling out through her chest like a sun gone supernova. This couldn’t be real.

‘Do you know what you’re asking?’ She whispered, eyes wide as he nodded grimly.

‘Fight to the death, right? Only, I’ve no chance if we get to Vulcan first.’

‘Whenever I call for the _Kal-i-Fee,_ it has to begin. Fuck the ceremonies,’ Michael laughed nervously, turning to face Fialkic in his bio-bed, where he laid still as a mountain. A bitterness welled inside her at practically ordering him to fight for his life, but Michael felt too much joy at escaping this chain to care.

‘What is going on?’ Pollard questioned, authority pausing the moment before Michael would have yelled, _I call for Kal-i-Fee!_

‘We need an arena,’ said the VSA student, deceptively calm as they informed Pollard of the terms. ‘Fialkic will fight for his right to have the Lady Michael Burnham of the House of Surak as his wife and partner during his Time. His opponent must kill or be killed.’

 _‘Captain!’_ Pollard hissed in defiance, but his hand already wrapped around Michael’s in comfort, squeezing lightly.

‘You will regret this,’ Fialkic said with surety. Michael didn’t want to have to hear it. Taking a nearby PADD from where is laid, she found a map of the _Discovery,_ highlighting the senior security officer’s gym, placing it back down as she backed away, taking Chris with her.

‘Meet us there. Captain’s override will release you,’ Michael instructed Fialkic, looking to Pollard. ‘I’m sorry,’ she apologised.

‘A fight to the death—it’s barbaric!’

‘It’s tradition,’ said the VSA student, as Michael turned away from her. They faced each other head on as they finished, ‘And it’s the only chance she has.’ They stepped aside so Chris and Michael could pass and she wondered who they were, but then Chris squeezed her hand and she was reminded of the fevered Vulcan behind her. She pressed onwards.

It was only when they were half-way to the gym did Michael finally dose herself with reality. There was no assurance that Chris would win the _Kal-i-Fee_ and neither was there a chance that her father would be happy with how events had unfolded. Last time Fialkic’s Time came, it took a pointed reminder from T’Pau for Michael to take a leave from the _Shenzhou_ to return to Vulcan—and even then, he had been furious. Michael wondered if it was all misplaced anger that made him so frosty when he visited her afterwards, or pain.

Chris broke her from her reverie. ‘What are you thinking about?’

‘My father,’ Michael admitted, looking down at their two intwined hands. She swung them between them, feeling almost childish. Chris grinned at her, then spun her under his arm, making a passing officer stare. The attention dampened her excitement, but Chris wasn’t so reduced.

‘Have you ever danced?’ he asked her, ‘Do Vulcans dance?’

‘Not like humans,’ Michael replied with a smile, thinking of a chance she might have had with Ash, if not for the supposed time loop they were in. Stamets said they’d danced. Too bad she couldn’t remember it. ‘My first parents took me to a party, once. I got to dance with my father and then I drank so much lemonade, I threw up on a pilot.’

Laughing at the image, Chris spun her again, catching her around the waist in the middle of an intersection. They stopped in place and he asked her, ‘Why were you thinking of your father?’

‘…he was always so angry. Did that student tell you why my marriage was validated?’

‘A Vulcan marriage bond, in the classical sense.’

‘In a way.’ Michael told him, finally giving the last piece of the puzzle. ‘Until my mother, Amanda, no Vulcan had ever successfully argued that a marriage bond had been implemented between a Human and a Vulcan. There were problems with the general psi-nullity of Humans and xenophobia, of course. If it ever happened, it was never acknowledged by the Vulcan High Council. Not until Amanda. They opened doors.’

His eyes shuttered closed. ‘He married her like Fialkic married you. Sarek would have to argue that your marriage was invalid, undoing his own in the process.’

‘I should have gone to a mind-healer who would have broken our bond outright,’ Michael said, voice cracking. ‘With it already broken, then at least I could have gotten out with being his sex toy every seven years. That’s what a Vulcan woman would have done.’

‘You’re basically Vulcan royalty, right?’ At her half-shrug, Chris sighed and stated aloud the root of the problem with her single escape option. ‘Your reputation would have been shredded. And you’re an ambassador’s daughter. If Vulcan nobility is anything like Earth’s, then Sarek might have had to disown you or lose his position.’

‘I know,’ she mumbled. ‘I think I could have taken the hit. Amanda would never have abandoned me, not in private. Other Vulcans would have written dissertations on my decision.’

‘We’ll never know,’ he said soothingly, before a clatter up the hallway distracted them both. They looked up at the same time, only to see Saru marching towards them with a furious expression on his face. ‘Ah,’ Chris murmured. ‘Here come the pitchforks.’

‘I’m struggling to come up with a quote that fits the situation,’ Michael returned easily. ‘I was thinking of _Much Ado About Nothing,_ about friendship being a constant in all things, save in the office and matters of love—but Saru really is my friend. I trust him.’

He met her eyes. ‘As do I. Want to tell him what’s going on?’

Saru scoffed as he approached. ‘Doctor Pollard told me all I need to know. You intend to challenge a Vulcan who is practically in berserker-form to a fight to the death!’

‘Yes, I do. To help Michael. It’s the only way,’ Chris stepped away from Michael, still holding her hand, even as he faced Saru, pleading. ‘I know what I’m about to do and I’ll bear all consequences from it.’

‘It is the opposite which is true,’ Saru countered, ‘as you are participating in an ancient ritual in which death is the only option. True death—or death of liberty.’ Saru turned to Michael, bowing his head in apology. ‘I’m sorry, Michael.’

Michael knew he was sorry that once again, she was the centre of attention. Stars knew Michael never wanted to be. Part of her wanted to hide, but she refused to, standing behind Chris and his decisions, dire though the situation might be.

 _He’ll murder Fialkic for me,_ she thought in a serene way. It was almost unbelievable, but then again, he was a good man. Those were rare. Rarer were the good men like Chris, who did it not out of selfishness, but for a cause as complex as her own.

‘So,’ Tilly spoke up, nervous as all hell. ‘Is there going to be a fight or what? ‘Cause I sort of want to see our captain beat up a guy who’s been such a fucking ass to Michael.’

‘Language, Ensign,’ Saru chastised, but already there were cheers from those who had followed. Michael recognised a few faces.

Chris turned back to her, tugging her along another corridor in the intersection, towards where they were looking to go—and where Fialkic would meet them, when they finally let him free.

‘ _And I have thrust myself into this maze,’_ he quoted Shakespeare, _‘Happily to wive and thrive as best I may.’_

Michael thought of the words _Koon-Ut Sol’ik_ and what they meant.

She realised that Chris knew too.

* * *

Dozens or more officers making up the crew of the _Discovery_ formed a ring in the gym, crowding around the edges and the doors. Chris could even see a few droids holding PADDs, ready to stream live footage of the ensuing fight. Chris could only hope nothing ended up on the ‘web—the Admiralty would kill him for ruining Starfleet’s squeaky-clean image of their Flagship captain.

Cracking his neck, Chris looked towards the door like everyone else when the Vulcan contingent arrived. It surprised him to see them wearing bright colours, when he was so used to the darker VSA uniform robe, but no—they wore reds and yellows.

Seeing Michael wincing, Chris nudged her silently in question. Under her breath, she said, ‘I’m not in the colours of my House.’

‘Purple, right?’ He remembered Spock talking about it. From her sharp look, Chris knew he had gotten it right. Looking around for anyone in civvies, Chris found exactly what he was looking for among a group of the engineering ladies and shuffled over, clearing his throat. ‘Excuse me.’

The officers had turned at his arrival, the lady in question raising an eyebrow at him as he gestured to her pocket-handkerchief, which was a dark purple to match her casual lilac suit.

‘May I borrow your handkerchief? I’m afraid Michael didn’t have time to put together quite so impressive a display as her peers.’

‘…sure,’ she said, plucking it from her pocket to hand over.

When Chris returned to Michael’s side, her smile was so wide her eyes crinkled. Carefully, he wrapped it around her wrist, distracting her with a tap to her arm when someone called out, _‘He’s on our deck!’_

‘Hey,’ he said. ‘I’ll be fine.’

‘Will you, though?’ Michael asked, worried. ‘I’ve barely seen you in combat at all. I know next to nothing about Fialkic, other than that he will be insanely strong. His adrenaline will be far higher than your own.’

Chris didn’t get a chance to reply, as the room had gone quiet, the crowd around the door parting like the Red Sea. Fialkic stood there, free of restraints, quiet except for some steady grunting, his eyes glazed as he stared at Michael—and at where their hands joined.

Doctor T’Kuna, her expression blank stone, stepped forth between them. From her robe, she produced a Vulcan-style gong, handing the hammer to Fialkic. ‘This is the Vulcan heart. This is the Vulcan soul. This is our way…’

Michael stepped away from him, standing face to face with Fialkic. Chris watched his fingers clench around the hammer, clearly waiting for something. That something came from all the Vulcans in the room.

_‘Kah-if-Farr.’_

Immediately, Michael yelled, _‘Kal-i-Fee!’_ and the gong sounded. For a moment, Chris thought that was the end of it. Fialkic had hit the gong first.

But T’Kuna shook her head. _‘T’sai Michael Burnham,_ you have chosen the _Kal-i-Fee._ You are prepared to become the property of the victor?’

A small roar of whispers and rejections came from the crowd, from those who hadn’t realised the depth this went to. But over them all, raising her chin, Michael could be heard saying, ‘I am prepared.’

‘You have already given aid to Fialkic during his Time and there is no _Koon-ul_ to break. By what tradition do you claim _Kal-i-Fee?’_

 _‘Koon-ut Sol’ik,’_ she said. ‘I am to wed another.’

‘Name them.’

Michael looked back at him. Chris nodded encouragingly, cheeks burning as he recalled T’Sil’s explanation. _Koon-ut Sol’ik_ was a formal marriage proposal and one of the few ways to leave a _Kal-i-Farr_.

Turning back to T’Kuna, in the silence Michael named him. ‘Christopher Pike.’

T’Kuna nodded, then addressed Fialkic. ‘Fialkic, do you accept the challenge, according to our laws and customs?’ When he nodded, she turned again to Michael. _‘T’sai Michael Burnham,_ you will choose your champion.’

‘As it was in the dawn of our days, as it is today, as it will be for all tomorrows, I make my choice. This one.’ Michael pointed to Chris. He admitted to himself in that moment that being pointed at made him feel extremely singled out.

T’Kuna said to him, ‘Christopher Pike, will you accept the challenge?’

Nodding, Chris could only accept, stepping forwards. ‘I will,’ he said, voice low and gravelly. He tensed his muscles and released them, hoping to bring up his heart-rate—not that it wasn’t already on its way.

In T’Kuna’s eyes, now that he was closer, he could see the spark of shame. Here stood a woman who did not want to speak, but she did. Chris thought he could understand, the burden of a captain weighing on him as surely as Fialkic’s death would on her.

Nevertheless, she proclaimed, ‘Here begins the act of combat for possession of the woman, _T’sai Michael Burnham_. As it was at the time of the beginning, so it is now. Bring forth the _lirpa_.’ She raised a hand and Chris saw more items brought from out under Vulcan cloaks. They hid a lot.

First were staves, with fan-like blades balanced with a counterweight on the end.

‘If both survive the _lirpa_ , combat will continue with the _ahn woon_ ,’ T’Kuna continued and Chris saw T’Sil bring out a pale white leather belt decorates with tassels that did nothing to disguise how it was meant to choke people to death.

T’Kuna began to retreat, as did Michael and the other Vulcans as they were each given a lirpa. The heavy weight of it made the truth of the matter sink in. He really would kill this man today. Chris hoped God would forgive him, then settled into a fighting stance that—after a glance in Fialkic’s direction—seemed a lot steadier than his opponents.

‘Challenge was given and lawfully accepted,’ T’Kuna said, her voice wavering. ‘It has begun. Let no-one interfere.’

The gong rung.

Fialkic lost all sense of strategy, raging with a yell. Chris barely rolled out of the way in time, twisting the lirpa around and barely skimmed Fialkic’s leg. Green blood splattered on the floor and he heard cries, cheering him on.

 _Fuck this,_ Chris thought, wanting Michael to be safe without all this palaver. But he stood, readjusting his grip on the lirpa. It felt like it was meant to be spun and luckily for Chris, he used to be part of his local ROTC unit. He did rifle drill for fun.

Certainly, it gave everyone a bit of a show and Fialkic halted for a moment, preservation instincts kicking in when he saw a spinning bladed weapon. When Chris managed to score a line across his chest, Fialkic staggered back, except then he kept staring.

Chris got the feeling something was very wrong with him.

T’Kuna likewise sensed something amiss and called out. ‘Fialkic. Has the Blood Fever overtaken you completely?’

Fialkic barely reacted to her words—only to jump forwards again and take Chris by surprise. He felt something brush against his chest as he dodged out of the way, but then the world went black for a moment. The next thing he knew, he was on the floor and his head was throbbing, waves of pain radiating from the skin around his ear.

‘-up, get up! He hit you with the staff, not the club, you’re _fine— **get up!** ’_

‘Michael?’ he mumbled, hearing a faint growl before he was flying through the air. When he hit the wall of the gym, he got to see the terrifying sight of Fialkic stalking towards him, side dripping with green and his hand covered in red. The floor was glassy with liquid and Chris realised that their blood was mixing on the mats.

Standing, Chris saw his _lirpa_ behind Fialkic and realised he needed to get past him to collect it, unless he wanted to try stealing Fialkic’s. The Vulcan man grunted, then with a roar swiped his blade at Chris again, who ducked and dove between the man’s legs, getting a lucky kick at the _rock_ hanging down. Chris shuddered at just the idea at why it would be, at a time like this.

Fialkic obviously felt the kick, because he dropped to his knees as Chris grabbed his own _lirpa_ again, hauling it as hard as he could in an arc—the blunted end hitting Fialkic’s skull with an audible _crunch._ Chris saw his skull cave in, crumpling with little more than the force Chris would use to slap a man.

Dropping onto his backside, sitting in a small puddle of red and green blood that soaked into his trousers, Chris tried to comprehend the fact that Fialkic wasn’t getting back up. The rest of the room seemed to understand, too. He thought he could hear Saru’s voice in the background hurrying people out of the door with sharp words as a hand came to rest on his shoulder. It felt warm, unlike the cold ground.

T’Kuna took off her outer robe and covered Fialkic’s body. The last thing Chris saw of his wound was dark liquid soaking the whitening strands of his hair.

His stomach rebelled and a moment later, he threw up his lunch. The hand on his shoulder rubbed at his back, before he found himself being transported direct to sickbay, where someone started inspecting his head.

‘-concussion…maybe a few bruises-’

‘The staff end-’

‘-I was watching. I’m more concerned about mental trauma, at this point-’

At some point, he must have fell asleep, because when he woke, he had anti-concussion meds attached to him by an intravenous feeder and a drip. Michael sat by his bed, talking in intelligible Vulcan to T’Sil, who smiled easy and reminded him of Spock by the way her eyes crinkled.

 _Michael’s safe and happy,_ he managed to think, letting the pull of sleep draw him back into oblivion. _Everything’s okay, now…_

* * *

It was like a paintbrush across skin. Ticklish. Light. It wasn’t a barb, digging into her metaphorical skin and it wasn’t a sledgehammer, like her father’s mind had been when she went in search of him, once, long ago.

T’Pau reversed the process, unravelling the edge of mind where it had been coiled up by Fialkic’s brutish teases. ‘Plebeian. Thy mother, Lady Grayson, might have done more good.’

‘And the sensations will fade?’ Michael asked.

‘Thy memory is fallible. It shall fade—while the knife that caused thou such sensations has been vanquished,’ T’Pau confirmed. Taking her hands from Michael’s psi-points, the elder dismissed her with a wave, to which Michael replied with as low a bow she could manage.

‘Thank-you, honoured elder.’

‘Cease your adulations. Thy father awaits.’

Michael did as she was told, bare feet padding across the floor of her childhood home. She could hear Amanda telling Sarek off for something or other, Chris’ familiar rumbling laughter a familiar hum in the background. Hiding her smile, Michael edged around the corner, wishing her parents knew where Spock was hiding. She’d been so sure her brother was here…

‘Grandmother, will you assent to visiting me in my dormitory at the Learning Centre? I am sure your advice will make my living quarters more palatable,’ said T’Sil, who Michael had not heard from in several weeks, since she finally departed from the _Discovery._

‘Of course, T’Sil. Thank-you for offering.’

‘The pleasure is mine. My acquaintance, Saru, taught me that phrase. Am I using it correctly?’

‘Perfectly,’ said Amanda, before she caught sight of Michael. Her smile brightened and Michael revealed herself fully, slipping over to join Chris at the dining table, accepting his outstretched hand for the briefest moment. She’d warned him of appropriate touches between spouses on Vulcan before they arrived.

Sarek asked, ‘The verdict?’

‘Bond-free,’ she informed him. He watched her for a moment longer in a way she appreciated, like he was looking at her for any more imagined hurts. Michael looked away first.

Querying T’Sil about her dormitory at the Learning Centre, the conversation moved on and breakfast was served from T’Sil’s efforts in the kitchen, as Vulcan tradition dictated the guest provided first meal to their hosts. Michael and Chris only arrived an hour before dawn, while T’Sil had been there a week, so they missed out on providing the house sustenance.

When they finished dining, Michael took Chris for a walk around the grounds of the estate, giving Sarek and Amanda a chance to finish rearranging their morning. Michael knew her father would have to return to his duties after midday meal, but likewise, he had to clear his morning first before he could do so.

Holding hands as they walked under the orange-leaved trees, Michael asked her husband, ‘How was the interrogation?’

‘I’m not sure if it’s started yet, to be honest,’ he replied, stating wryly, ‘I think your own was more stressful.’

‘That was _fun,’_ Michael teased. Chris rolled his eyes dramatically, then spun her around like he did in the hallway, what seems like eons ago now. Michael willingly accepts his embrace after it’s done, dancing to an unheard tune. ‘I liked your mother.’

‘She liked you, too…but Madre wasn’t so impressed. No secret chilli recipe for you,’ he faux-scolded, leaning down to kiss her softly.

Michael sunk into the kiss, only pausing to lean back and say, ‘Your dad liked me the best, though. I think I’m his new favourite.’

‘Sacrilege,’ Chris shook his head, ‘I suppose I’ll have to punish you.’ He paused, before hauling her up onto his shoulder, running across the dry dirt as she shrieked with laughter, only putting her down when they reached the bare trunk of a tree. Leaning her up against it, Michael laughed as Chris pressed fun kisses to her cheeks and her forehead and her nose—everywhere he could reach.

‘I love you,’ he said out of the blue. It quieted her. ‘I do, really.’ He leant their foreheads together. ‘I think I could love you for a thousand years.’

‘Really?’

‘Really,’ he confirmed, falling silent. Waiting. Waiting without expectation, brushing his thumb down the curve of her jaw. Michael wasn’t ready to say it back yet. There was so much to think about. The Red Angel. Spock. His continued captaincy of the _Discovery…_

But she could kiss him and she trusted he’d still love her, later. So that’s what Michael did. She leant up and cradled his face in her hands, pressing the most fond, adoring kiss she could to his lips. She could feel the faint scar from his Challenge under her fingertips, hidden by his hair and it reminded her of what he did for her. What he sacrificed.

‘I think I will too, eventually. Not right now,’ she told him. Promised him. ‘But soon.’

‘I’d wait for you.’

Michael smiled and kissed him again.


End file.
